


I still have a glow at Christmas

by MelanieQuinlan



Series: A New Life [1]
Category: Pet Shop Boys
Genre: Best Friends, Christmas, Christmas Eve, Christmas Fluff, Coming Out, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 05:13:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29819925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelanieQuinlan/pseuds/MelanieQuinlan
Summary: It's Christmas 1981, Neil Tennant and Chris Lowe have been friends for a few months now. When Neil accidently comes out to his mum a few days before Christmas and his parents do not react too well, Chris tries to save the holiday for his friend. Also Chris gives Neil the demo tape that will later turn into their song 'Jealousy'. Pre-Pet Shop Boys.
Relationships: Neil Tennant & Chris Lowe (Pet Shop Boys)
Series: A New Life [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2192067
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	I still have a glow at Christmas

There was only one week to go until Christmas Eve but still it hadn’t snowed in London once. Instead, it was raining almost every day. The leaden grey sky concealed the weak winter sun, and the wind was fierce and chilly and blew discarded newspapers and empty tins down the gutter even on King’s Road.

Neil stood in front of the window in his living-room and alternately watched the few people hurrying down the street below and the heavy rain drops running down the glass.

When he leaned slightly forward and craned his neck to the left, he could see the bright lights illuminating Harrods. Now they were blurred and yet they seemed strangely romantic, as if they were shining over from some fairy tale palace and not just a luxury department store.

A sudden draft rattled the windowpane. It made Neil shiver and he wrapped his arms around himself and tried to warm up his hands by rubbing them over his arms. On winter days such as this it never really got warm in his flat, even though he had turned the heater up as much as he could.

He was used to wearing at least two pullovers on such occasions, but he always found the lack of warmth in his flat slightly embarrassing when visitors came around. Not that the visitor he was currently waiting for would have complained about it. After all, Chris’s flat in Northern London was even smaller and dingier than his.

With a last look at the bright lights outside, Neil turned away from the window and frowned slightly when he saw the face of the clock over kitchen sink move to 6.15 p.m.  
Chris had said he’d be there by 6 o’clock at the latest. Neil knew he shouldn’t be concerned or get annoyed; it was just typically Chris – being late and not even worrying about it.

In all the four months he knew Chris now, Neil hadn’t quite managed to get used to this part of his new friend’s personality. The part that could act like an irresponsible child and just shrugged his shoulders when confronted about it.

Neil found it both unnerving and intriguing and ended up grinning when the doorbell finally rang.

When he opened the door to his flat, he found Chris already standing in front of it. Neil had to laugh when he saw his friend. Chris was soaking wet, his hair plastered to his forehead, looking somewhat like a wet puppy with those big hazel eyes.

“You’re late,” Neil said nevertheless, not quite willing to let the delay pass unmentioned.

“Aren’t I always?” Chris just grinned. “Don’t you get tiered of reminding me?”

“Not until you’ll learn,” Neil replied but smiled and stepped aside to let Chris enter.

“Hey, get out of your soggy trainers, will you? The carpet is dirty enough as it is,” he called after Chris, who gave a resigned little laugh but kicked his shoes off, nevertheless.

“Yes, boss,” he muttered and then complained: “I’ll get cold feet without them!”

Neil rolled his eyes. “You can have an extra pair of socks. And if you sit on the sofa like you always do, all cross-legged, you’re not likely to get cold feet anyway. Do you want a cup of tea?”

“Yeah, tea sounds great, it’s just too horrible out there,” Chris readily agreed and flopped down on the sofa while Neil put the kettle on and prepared their cups.

“Are all those candles supposed to look Christmassy?” Chris teased when Neil brought over their cups of tea and sat down the sofa next to him.

“Oh, shut up, you,” Neil complained. “Of course, it’s supposed to look Christmassy. What did you think? That I tried to make it look like Easter?”

When Chris laughed, Neil went on: “No use bothering about a tree with only me to see it. I mean, I won’t even be here for Christmas.”

Chris looked incredulous. “How on earth can you even consider squeezing a Christmas tree in here?”

Neil looked down for a moment and silently reached for his cup. He cradled it in his hands before answering.

“Don’t laugh, but I had one last year. Mostly for the sake of…” His voice trailed off and he looked away again.

“Your ex-girlfriend?” Chris finished the sentence for him.

“Yeah,” Neil admitted and forced a smile. “She really loved Christmas. All the kitschy, sentimental stuff about it, you know?”

Chris nodded thoughtfully and then grinned. “You could’ve at least put up some mistletoe.”

Neil snorted. “Yeah, right. Without somebody to kiss putting up mistletoe is a bit pointless; don’t you think?”

“Maybe I would have volunteered,” Chris deadpanned but collapsed laughing when Neil just stuck his tongue out instead of commenting.

“So, when are you going home,” he asked when he had regained his composure.

“I’ll take the train at noon on Christmas Eve.

“Oh really? That’s funny,” Chris said. “I’ll leave for Blackpool on Christmas Eve as well. But my train leaves earlier, some time past eleven in the morning, if I remember correctly.”

“In that case…” Neil mumbled vaguely and got up. He disappeared into his bedroom and after a moment returned with what could only be a 12” single or vinyl album wrapped in bright red and green paper.

Chris eyes widened and his gaze wandered from the wrapped gift in Neil’s hand to his friend’s face.

“Wow,” he gasped. “You shouldn’t have.”

Neil waved the comment away and stepped closer, holding the record out for Chris to take.

“I know,” he said,” but I wanted to. But promise you’ll just open it on Christmas Day.”  
Chris looked up at Neil and grinned.

“Did you warp it yourself?” He asked, looking as if it was the most unlikely thing to do.

“Sure, I did,” Neil shrugged and sat back down next to Chris again.  
“You should do that for a living,” Chris suggested. “It’s a very neatly wrapped present.”   
Then his face turned serious again. “I didn’t think to bring your present with me,” he admitted. “Actually, it’s still at my parent’s place.”

“Never mind,” Neil smiled, feeling secretly pleased that Chris had thought of giving him something for Christmas as well.

He leaned back and sighed. “Just keep your fingers crossed that Mum stops nagging me about making up with Pauline and bringing her home for Christmas.”

“Making up with…?” Chris echoed, looking surprised. “I thought you said there’s no way the two of you will ever make up and that for all you know you’re through with girls for good. You… You said you think you’re gay, didn’t you?”

Neil sighed again and pulled a face that looked almost comical. “I said this, yes. To you. But that doesn’t mean I told mother or that I have any intention of telling her just now.”

◊◊◊◊

The rest of the evening had passed all too quickly with their general chatter about music, Top of the Pops, Neil’s work, Chris’ studies and songs they wanted to write together. When it was already way past eleven o’clock Chris got up reluctantly and stretched.

“I guess I got to leave, the next bus leaves in 12 minutes.”

Neil nodded and stifled a yawn.

“If you miss it, come back. You can sleep on the sofa. I don’t want you to walk all the way along the river in the dark.”

Chris smiled at the offer but said nothing and simply put his trainers and jacket back on. When he was ready to leave, he turned and gave Neil a little hug.

“Merry Christmas, Neil. And thanks for the present. I’ll see you in ’82 then.”

Neil returned the hug a little awkwardly. “Yeah, see you next year and Merry Christmas to you, too!”

He watched as Chris made his way down the stairs and only closed the door when he heard the front door downstairs fall shut. He then busied himself tidying up his flat.

He didn’t want to think about Christmas and the idea of going back home to Newcastle filled him with mixed emotions. On one hand he was looking forward to seeing his parents and siblings again but on the other he dreaded the conversations with his mother and father and their relentless questions about why he’d broken up with his latest girlfriend and why he refused to even talk about it.

“It could be an awfully long week,” he mused darkly while he finished the washing up, “if I don’t come up with a very good subterfuge.”

◊◊◊◊

It was shortly before 4 o’clock on the day before Christmas Eve and Neil was dialling his parents’ phone number. He had stopped working earlier that day and planned on doing some last-minute Christmas shopping and just wanted to ask his mother if she wanted him to bring anything special home from London.

He grinned while he listened to the beeping and waited for the phone to be picked up. A bag with the Harrods crest never failed to impress his relatives back home, regardless of how cheap the item he had purchased for them had been.

“Hello?” His mother finally took the call. She never said her name when he answered the phone. She always said that people who called her surely knew whom they were talking to.

“Hi Mum,” Neil began, “it’s me. I’m just calling to ask if you want me to get you something special.”

“Neil!” She exclaimed. “I didn’t think you’d call again before you come home tomorrow. Dad’ll pick you up at the railway station, but why do I tell you? We talked about all of this last time.”

Neil laughed softly and nodded. “Yeah, we did. Just hope the train won’t be delayed like last year. So, is there anything I have to add to my shopping list for you?”

There was a small pause and Neil could picture his mother frowning slightly as she mentally went through her list of presents, wondering if there was some member of the family who could do with a little something extra.

“Actually, there is,” she finally informed him and went on to give him detailed instructions for his additional shopping.

“Is it still okay if you stay in your old room?” She asked when Neil had noted everything down.

The question and her tone of voice made Neil frown. This was his mother’s way of asking if he was coming home alone.

“Yes, Mum, it’s okay,” he replied, trying hard to keep the annoyance out of his voice. “Why do you ask? I’ve told you last time we spoke and before that time and before that…”

“No need to be snappy,” his mother interrupted.

“Snappy?” Neil couldn’t help but ask. “I’m not being snappy, Mum, but you’ve asked me if I’ll be coming home alone so many times already, I thought it was all clear by now.”

Mrs Tennant sighed at the other end of the line. “Yes, dear, but I was just thinking that, well, that maybe you’ve made up and…”

“Mum!” Neil interrupted. “I might be mistaken but I think I’ve told you Pauline and I are beyond making up. We’ve broken up, it wasn’t very pleasant, I don’t want to talk about it and yes, I’ll be coming home alone.”

“Alright, if you say so. It’s a bit sad, that’s all. You know, Dad and me we were hoping…”

“What?” Neil snapped and released the cord of the receiver he’d wound around his right hand. It bounced back and forth a little and then just swung in the air.

“This conversation is definitely heading in the wrong direction” he thought grimly.

“That you and she were going to get married,” his mother admitted a bit reluctantly.

“We weren’t going to get married. We aren’t going to get married now. I don’t want to see her again and I don’t think she wants to see me, either. And besides, who said that I actually want to get married anyway?”

His mother chuckled. “You won’t be saying this when the next beautiful girl steals your heart.”

“Not bloody likely,” Neil mumbled.

“What was that?”

Neil closed his eyes and forced himself to stay calm. He hadn’t meant for his mum to catch that.

“I said: Not bloody likely.”

“What do you mean: Not bloody likely?” Mrs Tennant continued the questioning, sounding both annoyed and suspicious now.

“Just what I said. That I don’t think it’s very likely that another girl will steal my heart,” Neil explained and mentally dammed his own stupidity even while he spoke. Why had he just said that?

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous, Neil. Surely you don’t plan on staying single forever?”

Neil felt anger exploding within him. He was feeling cornered and there wasn’t much he hated more than that. Before he even knew what he was doing he heard himself saying:

“No, but maybe it’ll be a boy who’ll steal my heart, as you put so nicely, Mum!”

The silence that suddenly stretched out between them was defeating and rang louder in his ears than any gunshot could have done. Neil swallowed hard. His mouth had gone dry and his palms were getting sweaty.

“This is a disaster,” he thought. “A total and utter disaster!”

“Can you say that again?” His mother asked after what seemed like half an eternity. Her voice sounded cold which made Neil wince.

“Forget what I said,” he pleaded. “Just forget what I said.”

“Just say that again,” she insisted.

Neil took a deep breath, but it did nothing to calm him. He was suddenly scared. Scared and hurt and confused and still more than just a little bit angry.

“I… I said,” he began in a much too shaky voice. “I said that maybe it’ll be a boy who…”

“A boy!” His mother shrieked and Neil closed his eyes and rubbed them with his index finger and thumb, frantically trying not to start crying. He forced himself to hold on the conversation and not just slam the receiver down.

“Yes, that’s what I said,” he said in a toneless voice.

“Are you telling me that you are… you are…?

“Gay, Mum? Is that the word you’re looking for? ‘Course I think that, yes, that’s indeed what I’m telling you.”  
Again, a deadly silence followed his words, then Neil could hear a muffled conversation, as if somebody was holding his hand over the mouthpiece to prevent him from hearing what was being said at the other end. Neil waited anxiously. He could hear raised voices now. 

“Oh shit,” he silently cursed. “Please don’t let it mean that Dad heard me say that. Please, please, please!”

His hopes were quickly dashed as without warning a different voice was yelling at him. 

“Is that true? Answer me! Is that true?”

His father had obviously taken the receiver from his mother. Neil thought he could hear her crying in the background. The tone of his voice sent cold shivers of dread down Neil’s spine. It was so full of contempt and disappointment and that hurt like hell.

“Yes, it’s true. But Dad…” Neil tried to plead but was once again cut short.

“I’m not your Dad! Not anymore! No son of mine is a bloody faggot. Do you hear me? And don’t dare coming home tomorrow or I’ll beat you black and blue, I swear…”

His mother’s voice came back but Neil could still hear his father’s curses.

“Did you have to ruin Christmas for us like that? Better don’t come tomorrow, your father is quite beside himself. Maybe I’ll mange to calm him down over the holidays. Don’t phone, either. I’ll call you as soon as I can.”

Then the line went dead Neil and could just stare at the now useless receiver in his hand. After a long moment, during which he stood there unable to move, it slid out of his grip and landed on the floor with a dull thud.

He turned in slow motion and blinked heavily. Tears were running down his face and he wiped at them angrily. When he spotted the bags with all the colourfully wrapped Christmas presents, he had already packed for his family, cold fury drowned out all his confusion and hurt.

How dare they blame him for ruining Christmas? How dare they call him a faggot? How dare they forbid him to come home for Christmas?

He grabbed his winter jacket from the chair he had placed it over when he’d come in and put it on. He kicked one of the bags as he passed and wiped at his eyes behind his glasses again before the left his flat and banged the door shut behind him.

One day before Christmas Eve or not, he was getting drunk!

◊◊◊◊

When the doorbell rang the next morning, Neil had just finished taking a long shower and haphazardly putting on his clothes. His head was still pounding, he felt unsteady on his feet and he couldn’t find his glasses.

Muttering curses as he made his way over to the door, he nearly stumbled over the bags containing all the presents he had bought. They fell and spilled out, but he didn’t give a damn. Carelessly he stepped over then and gratefully leaned against the doorframe as he buzzed the entry door open and waited for whoever dared to disturb him to make his way up the stairs.

When he heard footsteps coming closer, he opened the door to his flat a crack and peeked outside. To his surprise it was Chris whose grin rapidly faded as he caught sight of his friend.

“Jesus, what happened to you?” Chris asked as he pushed past Neil into the flat. He watched his friend swaying a little as he tried to stand unaided and shook his head in disbelieve.

“Wait, I close the door. You better sit down.”

When Neil hadn’t moved from the spot when Chris had closed the door and dropped his backpack to the floor, he gently stirred him into the direction of the sofa.

“Sit,” he ordered and shrugged out of his jacket.

Neil complied and sank down on the sofa, resting his head on the backrest.

“How late is it?” he asked.

“9.20,” Chris answered and stood watching his friend for a moment longer. Nell’s hair was still damp and even curlier than usual, his eyes were red-rimmed, and he looked pale and tired.

“Are you ill or something?” He asked although he doubted it severely.

“No,” Neil shook his head and winced at the motion. “Just a hangover. My own bloody fault.”

Chris just nodded slightly. “Thought you’d say that. I’ll make coffee.”

◊◊◊◊

Some 30 minutes later Neil was half-way through his second cup of coffee and the Alka Seltzer was finally kicking in. Chris had also found Neil’s glasses and, having slipped them on gratefully, he fell into a brooding silence. Chris just watched his friend, all the while stealing glances to his wristwatch.

When his patience finally ran out, he put his cup down forcefully and looked sternly at Neil.

”You know, I can’t read minds yet. And even if I could, your skull is too damn thick to even attempt it. So, will you tell me what’s up or not?”

That comment made Neil smile despite his misery. He took another sip of coffee and then nodded slowly.

“Alright, it all got horribly wrong when I phoned my Mum yesterday…”

He then told Chris how the conversation had deteriorated between him and his mother and what the outcome had been. When he heard himself say those words, he could hardly believe it had actually happened. It was just too awful.

When he’d finished, Chris just stared at him, looking appalled.

“He really said that? Your Dad?”

Neil just nodded, not really wanting to recall his father’s words again.

“Wow!” Chris whistled softly and shook his head. “I mean, you told me some things about him, but I didn’t think he’d be such a bastard!”

“You’ haven’t met him,” Neil muttered.

“What will you do now?”

“What can I do?” Neil answered with a counter question. “I’ll stay here and pretend it’s not Christmas. Possibly end up pissed more often than I should.” 

He ignored Chris’ disapproving look and changed the subject.

“Why did you come here this morning, by the way?”

Chris looked uncomfortable suddenly and squirmed a little before he finally answered.

“Just wanted to say Goodbye and wish you a Happy Christmas again.”

“Thanks,” Neil nodded and sighed. “It’s not your fault it all went wrong.”

◊◊◊◊

Some minutes later Chris found himself pushed against the connecting door between two compartments on the overcrowded tube taking him to Victoria Station. The small window had slid open and the biting wind was whistling around his neck, making him shiver despite the sticky warmth in the tightly packed train.

He felt bad leaving Neil like that. But what could he do? Go back and upset his family by not coming home for Christmas? Take Neil with him? He was wracking his brain; it was no good either way. He just had one train ticket and he was certain that neither of them had the necessary money to buy another one.

Suddenly he grinned to himself. He had an idea and a bloody brilliant one as well. If he knew his folks at all, he had just found the perfect solution!

When he’d reached Victoria, he practically ran along the corridors and up the stairs until he found a public phone booth in the great hall lined by shops and cheap restaurants.

Nervously he fished his last coins out of the pocket of his jacket and started dialling his parent’s phone number.

“Please, let them be in,” he thought. “Don’t let Mum and Dad be on one of their last minutes shopping sprees with Nan.”

He needn’t have worried, though. The phone was picked up after the third ring.

“Mum,” he immediately began in an urgent voice. “I really, really need your help for Christmas. Just listen…”

◊◊◊◊

When the doorbell rang for the second time that morning about one and half hours later, Neil frowned and got up from the sofa he’d been laying on ever since Chris had left. He hadn’t done anything really, just had sipped more coffee and put on some of his favourite records to escape the festive cheer that was being spread on all radio stations.

He had no idea who could be paying him a visit and assumed it was the post man, trying to deliver something to a neighbour who wasn’t there.  
When he opened the door to his flat, he could hear quick footsteps hurrying up the stairs. His eyes widened when a breathless Chris came skidding to halt in front of him. He was grinning widely and held up a plastic back from the local supermarket.

“Can I come in?”

Neil just stepped aside, too astonished to trust his voice. Chris kicked off his shoes as he went straight to the kitchenette and began unpacking his bag. When Neil came closer and looked over Chris’s solder, he saw his friend take out two packages of sandwiches, a plastic box of cupcakes, two small red, green, and white candy canes and finally two tins of larger.

“What’s all this about?” Neil finally asked. “What on earth are you doing here? Was your train delayed or…?”

“Wait, wait, save your breath,” Chris interrupted, still wearing a huge grin.

“I’m keeping you company until my Dad comes to pick us up and takes us both to Blackpool for Christmas.”

“You… What?”

“I said: I’m keeping you company until my Dad comes to pick us up,” Chris repeated matter-of-factly and grinned even more than he saw Neil’s jaw drop in surprise and confusion.

“I called my parents when I’d reached Victoria and told them you’d had a row with yours and were going to spent Christmas alone. Of course, they wouldn’t have it and so Mum ordered Dad to drive down to London to pick us up. I gave him your address. He should be here between 4 and 5 o’clock, depending on how bad the traffic is,” Chris explained.

Neil continued to stare at his friend for a few moments longer, then a small smile crept across his face. He hugged Chris impulsively and then squeezed his shoulders when he let go.

“Thanks,” he whispered.

“Don’t mention it,” Chris mumbled gruffly and pointed at the food he’d brought.

“Sweets or sandwiches first?”

Neil laughed and picked up the cane canes.

“What are those for? I don’t see any children around here,” he teased.

“Idiot,” Chris cursed and snatched them out of Neil’s hands. “It’s not Christmas without candy canes,” he said gravely. “I’m from Blackpool after all. We still decorate our tree with those.”

“You don’t!” Neil rolled his eyes in mock disgust. “No wonder you like all sort of kitschy things. Tea?”

◊◊◊◊

When the doorbell rang for a third and last time that day, Chris jumped up from the sofa and went over to the door.

“That’ll be Dad,” he announced and waited by the door while Neil cleared away the last of the food and the empty tins of beer. He had already packed, and his backpack and an additional travelling bag were already waiting by the front door.

When he had only packed a few items, Chris had given him a funny look.

“That won’t last you until New Year’s Day,” he had said with a chuckle and had burst out laughing when he saw Neil frown.

“What do you mean? Last me until New Year’s Day?” Neil had asked, flabbergasted.

“Well, I don’t think my Mum would particularly like washing your dirty underwear so take plenty!”

Neil had blushed slightly and asked again: “You don’t mean I’ll be staying with you and your parents that long?”

Still laughing, Chris had answered: “Of course you will. How else will you get back to London? I mean, you could sing songs in front of the railway station to collect the money for the ticket back but that might take you longer than just going back with Dad and me.”

“Oh,” was all Neil had been able to say so he had packed more clothes. He would have to phone in ill at work but that thought hadn’t really bothered him at that moment.

He smiled to himself when he collected his gloves and scarf.

“I’m lucky,” he mused. “I always manage to find people who turn into really good friends.”

The lengths Chris went to make sure he wasn’t spending Christmas alone surprised him but in a good way. It made him feel warm inside.

When he heard Chris talking to someone by the door, Neil went to meet his friend’s father for the first time.

“Good evening, Mr Lowe,” Neil said and had to fight hard to keep a huge grin from his face when he saw both men looking at him simultaneously. The resemblance between Chris and his father was more than stunning; Neil thought that Mr. Lowe looked exactly like Chris, right down to the boyish grin and the mischievous spark in his eyes. Only the clothes he wore – black corduroys and a light blue windbreaker jacket – and the small lines around his eyes gave away the age difference between father and son.

“It’s very kind of you to come all the way down from Blackpool to pick us up,” Neil finished but Mr. Lowe waved his comment away and winked at him.

“If Chris here thinks you’re worth the little excursion, then that’s good enough for me,” he explained with a small smile and looked Neil over in a more curious than critical fashion.

“Dad!” Chris protested next to his father and when Neil threw him a quick glance, saw that his friend had blushed slightly. It puzzled him but he wasn’t given the time to really dwell on this as Mr. Lowe went on:

“So, you’re Neil. Can I call you Neil?”

When Neil just nodded his agreement, Chris’ father placed one hand on his shoulder and smiled again.  
“Excellent! Pleased to meet you, Neil. Chris has been telling us quite a lot about you, you know?”

“Oh really?” Now it was Neil’s turn to feel embarrassed and he glanced at Chris again, who just rolled his eyes and mouthed the words: “Don’t listen to Dad. He’s exaggerating.”

◊◊◊◊

After some more pleasantries had been exchanged, the three men had made their way down the stairs and over to where Mr. Lowe had parked his car, an old dark grey Ford Anglia. It made Neil laugh seeing it.

“My Dad used to drive the same car,” he hurried to explain. “Only his was that horrid green.”

“The one that looks like baby vomit?” Chris suggested and immediately was punished by his father with a light punch to his neck.

“Keep your cheeky mouth in check, will you, Christopher?” He lectured, trying to sound stern but Neil saw the grin that had briefly flashed up on the man’s face. He grinned as well.

“Never mind him, Sir, he’s right. The colour of that car really was dreadful!”

Mr Lowe laughed and unlocked his boot. “Put your bags in here, young man,” he instructed Neil and after he’d locked the boot again, opened the two back doors.

Neil found it a bit surprising that Chris climbed onto the backseat next to him when he shut his own door but said nothing. He was just glad to have someone to talk to on the journey north.

◊◊◊◊

Some hours later Neil was shaken awake none too gently. He groaned and stretched, trying to work the kinks from his neck and shoulders. Hiding a hearty yawn behind one hand, he sat up properly again and turned to look at Chris who grinned down at him.

“Wakey, wakey,” he intoned in an annoyingly cheerful voice. “We’re almost there, just a few more yards down the road.”

“Already?” Neil muttered and stretched some more. “When did I fall asleep?”

“Pretty soon after we’ve reached the motorway,” Chris explained with a huge grin. “Your little drinking binge really knocked you out, eh?”

“Not only the drinks,” Neil thought grimly but aloud he only said: “Can we please not talk about it now?”

Chris looked at him for a moment and in the darkness, Neil wasn’t able to read his expression but then his friend nodded and leaned closer.

“Mum and Dad don’t know what your row was about, I said I didn’t know, only that it must’ve been pretty bad as you’d looked like shit in the morning,” he assured Neil in an urgent whisper.

Neil nodded back and managed a small smile. “Thanks.”

◊◊◊◊  
The next hours went past Neil in a blur of warmth, brightly coloured Christmas decoration, loud voices, and laughter. Plus, way too much food and drink. Most of the Lowe clan had already been present and had gathered in the living room to chat to Chris and his new friend.

Neil had hardly had enough time to take off this jacket and put his bags somewhere as Chris had pushed him along the corridor. A young woman with extremely short cut dark brown hair came bouncing down the stairs and flew into Chris’s arms. Chris hugged her tight and then stepped back with a grin. He made a sweeping gesture.

“Vicky, meet Neil. Neil, meet my little sister, Vicky.”

“Hi, Neil,” Vicky smiled at him and gave him a quick hug as well.

“Hello Vicky. Nice to meet you,” was all Neil managed to say. This family and their out-going, uncomplicated friendliness astonished him. His own family was so different, so very different. So prim and proper and reserved. Never really allowing for their emotions to show that openly.

“Only Dad’s fury, that’s the only emotion he’s shown lately,” Neil thought and to his surprise that realization made him more sad than angry.

“Is he always that shy?” Vicky inquired next to him and Neil blinked a few times, forcing the gloomy thoughts from his mind.

“No, he isn’t,” he replied before Chris could answer. Then he jumped slightly as someone suddenly placed an arm around his shoulder.

“Hello Neil,” the young man who’d shown up next to him said. He was grinning and slurred his words slightly as he spoke. “So, you’re the singer Chrissy-boy met in bad old London?”

“Yeah, I’m Neil,” he began, “but I’m no…”

“Oh, don’t listen to him,” Vicky giggled. “Greg’s just been keeping an eye on the Eggnog while Dad was gone, and he’s been a bit over-eager to make sure it doesn’t go bad. Aren’t I right, little bro?”

Before Greg could answer, another voice caught their attention and all heads turned to an elderly Lady, who’d come out of a room some doors down to join them in the corridor by the foot of the stairs. She appeared to be over 60 but showed no sign of infirmness as she walked up to them.

“Greg’s been more trouble than a bunch of flees,” she announced and then turned to Chris.

“Where’re your manners, Christopher? Go on, fetch your friend here a drink and show him where he can put his bags. The lad looks like’s he gonna fall asleep on his feet!”

Both Neil and Chris blushed slightly after the old Lady’s lecture and then, as they caught sight of each other, started to giggle.

“Sorry, grandma,” Chris managed after a while. “No offence meant.”

After he had also met Tim, the youngest of Chris’ bothers and Mrs Lowe, Neil had been told to sit down at the kitchen table where Chris had joined him before long.

“Just put your bags upstairs,” he informed Neil who was already sipping the tea Chris’ mom had prepared. “I’m afraid you’ll have to bunk with me. All the guest rooms are full or will be by tomorrow.”

“That’s fine with me, really,” Neil assured both Chris and his mother who was surely listening while she went through her drawers and the fridge.

“I’m glad you’re having me at all. I mean, it’s really not your business when my family doesn’t want me home for Christmas.”

He had to look down as suddenly tears were burning in his eyes and he did not want to cry in front of Chris’ family.

“Bullshit,” Chris replied gruffly. “You’re my friend, ‘cos it’s my business.”

Thankfully, Mrs Lowe saved Neil from having to answer, when she suddenly joined the conversation.

“You know, Neil, I promised Chris I won’t ask you any stupid questions about what happened and I won’t, but I think you should phone your parents and let them know you’re okay.”

Neil stiffened visibly and drew a deep breath before he looked up. “I don’t think that’ll be a very good idea,” he told her. He was struggling to keep his voice level and calm, to keep all the hurt and anger out of it.

“My…mother, she asked me not to phone. She said she’d call back in a few days time.”

Chris’ mother looked down at her son’s new friend and frowned slightly.

“But you’re not home now, are you? So even if she phones, you’re not going to answer. She’ll be worried.” She held out her hands as she saw that Neil was about to protest.

“Oh, I can guess that you’re thinking: What do I care about this? But it won’t solve your problem. Go on, just tell her where you are.”

“No messing with mum,” Chris said when Neil refused to answer.

“Okay,” Neil conceded after a moment of silence. “But I’ll only call my sister; she can tell our parents where I am.”

◊◊◊◊

When Neil returned to the kitchen after his brief phone call with his sister Susan, a glass of steaming Eggnog was put into his hand before he even had time to say a single word.

“Thought you could use it,” Chris muttered and went back to his chair. In a louder voice, he added: “Greg was kind enough to leave enough Eggnog for us and Dad. I won’t be sorry for him if he complains about a headache in the morning!”

“Wouldn’t be Christmas without one of you complaining, hmm?” Mrs. Lowe remarked with just a hint of sarcasm. “Now, please move over to the living room, I’ll bring some sandwiches over.”

Neil got up immediately but when Chris wanted to follow him out of the room, his mum called him back: “Can you give me a hand, Chris? It’ll only be a moment.”

Chris nodded and motioned for Neil to just follow the corridor to where all the noise was coming from.

“What do you want me to do, mum?” Chris asked and leaned against the doorframe.

Mrs. Lowe made a dismissive motion with her hand and looked up from the plate on which she’d been cutting slices of toast in half.

“Oh, nothing, really. I just wanted to have a quick word with you, that’s all.”

Her son’s head snapped up in alarm. “Is something wrong?”

Mrs. Lowe laughed and shook her head. “No, nothing’s wrong. Don’t worry. You like him a lot, don’t you?”

Chris stared at his mum and frowned. “Whom? Neil?”

Mrs. Lowe laughed again. “Of course, I mean Neil. Who else did you bring home for Christmas?”

“Sure, I like him. He’s a friend. Why do you ask?”

“Because you only know him since August and you’ve practically moved Heaven and Earth so that he won’t have to spend the holidays alone. Whereas Mickey, whom you know since primary school, hasn’t been ‘round for Christmas even once.”

Chris smiled and shook his head slightly. “And what you’re saying is…?”

“I’m saying nothing, Chris. I just ask.”

“Don’t you like him, then?”

“Oh, he seems to be a good lad. At least he’s got matters,” Mrs. Lowe said and threw her son a little meaningful look.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Chris sighed. “I’m hopeless as hell because I don’t always say ‘yes, please’ and things. So what about Neil?”

Mrs. Lowe said nothing for a moment and piled the finished sandwiches onto a plate. Then she wiped her hands on a cloth, which she then tossed aside with a sigh of impatience.

“You know, an oyster is easier to crack than you are, Christopher! Are you two boyfriends or not?”

Chris winced and shook his head. He was too perplexed to answer and just stared at this mother in disbelieve.

“Too bad,” Mrs. Lowe sighed and ignored Chris’ flabbergasted face-expression.

“It’s just… It looks like you’ve known Neil for years, the way you act around each other, so I thought… Ah, forget what I said and take the sandwiches over, will you?”

◊◊◊◊

By the time Chris and Neil were finally ready to go to bed, Neil really was ready to fall asleep on his feet. His head was buzzing from all the chatter, but he felt quite good. He was cosy and warm in his makeshift bed on Chris’s sofa and the countless blankets he’d been given. He was tired almost to the point of exhaustion, but he hoped that that would mean a night of untroubled sleep and not one full of bad dreams and far too many complicated thoughts.

“Do you always sleep in a track suit?” Chris asked when he came back from the bathroom and sat down on this bed. He was wearing pyjama pants and a T-shirt.

Neil looked at his friend and rubbed his eyes as if trying to compensate for the slightly blurred vision without his glasses.

“It’s warmer than my pyjamas,” he muttered and lay back on the pillows with a content sigh.

“I hate pyjamas,” Chris replied while he made himself comfortable. “But sometimes it’s just too fucking cold without them. By the way, guess what Mum asked me. Neil?”

When he looked over to the sofa, Chris realized that his friend had already fallen asleep. He grinned to himself and switched the little bedside lamp on the small drawer at the front end of the bed off.

“In less than 5 minutes form hyperactive chatterbox to fast sleep, that must be a world record,” he mused and briefly considered the possibility of his mother going mad because she had asked him all those questions, before he, too, fell asleep.

◊◊◊◊

They were both woken by a rather loud knock on the door the next morning. Neil tried to sit up at once and blinked when he realized that he wasn’t at home. Mrs. Lowe’s voice easily carried through the door as she called out for them to get up and come down for breakfast.

A groggy-looking Chris emerged from underneath the covers and he yawned wildly before he reluctantly swung his legs out and sat up. He laughed when he caught sight of Neil, who had been tangled up in his blankets while he slept and now tried to free himself. He looked up and grinned.

“Morning. I’ve never had so many blankets piled on top of me in my life.” He reached for his glasses and stretched. “Oh, and Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas,” Chris chuckled and got up and collected his clothes from where’s he’d thrown them the previous evening. He eyed his jeans for a moment, then discarded them and fished another pair out of his wardrobe.

“That’s the third time we’re wishing each other a Merry Christmas. Hope that means good luck or something!”

“I could use some,” Neil muttered and got up as well. “Can I use the bathroom first?”

◊◊◊◊

When they were both dressed and ready to go downstairs, Chris stopped Neil near the door.

“Wait a second; I’d rather give you my present here. I don’t want anybody to ask stupid questions about it.”

Neil turned and arched an eyebrow at Chris’s odd statement.

“What? Is it too naughty to be seen by your family?” He asked with a grin and then sighed. “I’m sorry that I don’t have anything for your parents and everybody else.”

“Forget it,” Chris waved Neil’s concerns away and went over to the desk and picked up a small, unevenly wrapped parcel.

“You’re excused; you were forced to come here.” He held out the parcel and said nothing even as Neil took it and shook it close to his ear.

“Something’s rattling in there,” he mumbled. “It’s broken.” He looked at Chris, pouting but when his friend didn’t comment on his little joke he started to unwrap his gift.

A cassette emerged, a 60 minute blank tape but when he turned it in his hands, Neil saw that Chris had written something in capital letters on the left side of the cover. It read: ‘At dead of night.’ Nothing more.

Neil looked up again and found Chris still watching him intently. He felt irritated now and uncertainly asked:

“What’s this?”

“That,” Chris explained, “is a piece of music I recorded for you. You know, something I made up on the piano one night. Hence the title.”

Neil stared at his friend, then at the tape in his hands and then back at Chris.

“You mean…?” He swallowed and then tried again. “You mean, you’ve written this for us?  
Wow!”

Chris nodded slowly and seemingly tried to avoid facing Neil.

“That’s brilliant,” Neil beamed and gave Chris a quick hug. “Can’t wait to listen to it, I’m so nosey.”

◊◊◊◊

When they came downstairs, another surprise was waiting for Neil by the foot of the stairs.

“Susan,” he exclaimed and rushed down the stairs, leaving a bemused Chris behind.

Susan turned when she heard her name called and her face lit up when she caught sight of her brother.

“Neil,” she half cried, half sighed and threw her arms around him before he’d taken the last step.

“Thank God you’re alright,” she muttered as she mussed his hair and then let go.

Neil automatically tried to straighten up his hair, looking a little embarrassed. Chris was snickering behind him and Mrs. Lowe was also watching.

“Why shouldn’t I be alright? But what on earth are you doing here?” He asked.

“You’re so funny, Neil,” Susan scolded him but took his arm. “Why indeed would we be worried? I mean, you just disappeared after…” She stopped herself, obviously unwilling to reveal too much about the reason for all the trouble.

“…after that phone call with Mum,” she finished a little lamely. “You didn’t answer the phone and a full day passes before you contact me! So why should I be worried, hmm?”

“Oh!”

It was obvious from Neil’s face expression that it really hadn’t occurred to him that someone from his family might worry.

“Sorry about that,” he said meekly. “I didn’t think… I was too furious. Just went out for a few drinks after mother had hung up on me and came back late and yesterday… Chris Dad picked us up in the afternoon and then we got here I phoned you.” 

Still looking puzzled he followed Mrs. Lowe and Chris, Susan still at his side.

“But you still haven’t told me what you’re doing here,” he asked once more.

“Having breakfast in a minute, I hope,” Susan grinned. “I’m dying for a cup of tea. But seriously, I’m picking you up, of course. Mum has changed her mind and you’re practically ordered to come home.”

Neil dropped dead in his tracks and stared at his sister. He had paled somewhat and swallowed nervously.

“What about Dad?”

Susan frowned slightly and shook her head in a manner that suggested that she disapproved of her father’s behaviour.

“Father,” she began, putting great emphasis on the word, “chose to pay Uncle Ray a visit. He said he won’t be back before New Year’s Eve. Mum’s still tying to work out if it’s a promise or a thread.”

“What?” Neil couldn’t believe his ears. “He never visits Uncle Ray, even when he passes through Bristol.”

“I know, I know,” Susan looked resigned. “After Mum had given him a piece of her mind about how he’d treated you on the phone, he must’ve packed his suitcase faster than you can say ‘Merry Christmas’”.

Neil shook his head as if trying to wake up from a strange dream. “Oh dear,” he finally managed to say. “What a mess! Wait, did she tell you why…? Why we fought?”

Susan nodded. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to freak, and neither are Simon and Phil.”

Neil rolled his eyes and felt his face heat a little. “Brilliant,” he complained. “Now everybody knows!”

His sister laughed and resumed her steps, dragging Neil along.

“Not such big news to most of us,” she grinned. “I waited for you to say it for ages.”

As they were now entering the living room, she threw her brother a meaningful look that he knew meant ‘We’ll talk later’. He gave a short nod of agreement and smiled at Chris, who’d looked up with a worried expression on his face.

“Considering all this kerfuffle, you’re still having quite a glow at Christmas, eh?”

“I have, yes,” Neil said smugly. “I just got a bloody brilliant present. One that’s even better than the train set I had to share with Simon when I was 10.”


End file.
